A Spa Day For Daryl
by Caffiend04
Summary: What would a crossbow-wielding redneck know about spa days?  If you're Daryl Dixon, apparently a whole bunch of stuff they never teach in esthetician school.
1. Chapter 1

Sorry, second Fanfic and I forgot on the first one to do the disclaimer about the fact that I'm clearly too simple to have come up with the Awesome of "Walking Dead" or any of it's characters and plotline that belong to AMC and blah blah blah. Thanks. I'm truly grateful for the alerts and reviews for "Finish What You Started." I'd be most appreciative of constructive feedback and ideas here. Thank you!

Chapter One: Who The Hell Are You?

Daryl tromped crossly into camp, carrying his ever-present crossbow. The group had the good fortune a month ago to stumble on a summer camp. The faded letters still spelled "Tomahawk Hills," though the only residents now were not bored adolescents but an exhausted group of survivors grateful for sturdy wooden cabins and a mess hall still filled will supplies for summer campers that never came.

The surly hunter's skills were still needed, however. When the electricity failed, everything in the walk-in freezer failed too. Protein was still very much a necessity for everyone's survival. However, squirrel mixed with vegetables, spices and rice was an entirely different taste. Even the increasingly-pregnant Lori was able to gratefully wolf down her dinner every night. Everyone's moods lifted by the privacy offered even by the one-room cabins, and sleeping on a mattress again didn't hurt. Glenn enthusiastically volunteered to bunk with someone "to save room." He was politely turned down by Dale and Shane, and decisively rejected by Daryl. Daryl had never, _ever_ had a room of his own, even at the age of 39. He wasn't going to share it now. It was clear that both Dale and Shane hoped Andrea would set her bags down by their door, but she bypassed them both to share with Carol.

The living conditions did get a bit more crowded with the arrival of a new group four weeks into summer.

The cicadas were screeching their endless tune when Rick heard the quiet discussion of voices he didn't recognize. Standing up with his usual welcoming smile, Rick placed a hand to shield his blue eyes from the sun, trying to see the small group straggling down the dirt lane. Shane and Andrea came up behind him, both with hands hovering eagerly over their gun belts. Rick glanced down and sighed. "I thought we agreed you wouldn't be packing around camp?" Andrea was tipping back and forth, heel-toe-heel-toe as her fingers just touched the butt of the gun holstered to her belt. "These ain't our people." said Shane flatly. Rick sighed and replaced the welcoming smile back on his face as the small group finally stopped.

An extraordinarily tall woman-well over 6 feet-detached from the rest and came forward. Her hand was casually placed on her gun belt, though specifically not near the gun holstered there. "Hey," she greeted.

"Hey, back," smiled Rick, walking forward as his two trigger-happy shadows drifted behind.

The woman eyes them both, carefully before returning her hazel eyes to the sheriff. "They're not gonna shoot me if I put out my hand, right?"

Rick twitched irritatedly and glared at Shane and Andrea before returning to his friendly smile and the tall woman's curious gaze. "Sorry about that. We're all a little jumpy after everything we've been through. Where you all from?"

Her fingers didn't leave the gun belt, but the Amazon smiled ironically. "We're from 'Survive and Thrive."

"Um, who?" Andrea couldn't help piping up.

Hazel eyes watched her carefully as the stranger smiled. "It's kind of a joke. We were in Atlanta for a convention for the 'Survive and Thrive' food storage company." She laughed briefly and brushed her dark brown hair behind her left ear. "You know, freeze-dried food, survival gear. We were setting up displays at the Cobb Galleria when everything went to shit. Took us a couple of hours with no power and those things being more interested in us than our freeze-dried pineapple treats to realize the convention was fucked."

Rick gave out a small chuckle. "Got that."

"Anyway," suddenly the Amazon was all business. "We could use a safe place to stay. We've been camping in the woods for a month now. If I have to burn one more tick off Calvin there-" she jabbed a thumb back at a reedy-looking fellow who flushed red, "I'm going to set the whole forest on fire, I swear to God."

Shane interrupted. "We have people of our own to worry about."

Cool eyes surveyed his. "I understand that." The Amazon refused to take offense. "But we pull our own weight."

The lanky Calvin stepped forward, babbling "we have over 10 years worth of delicious freeze-dried foods that can be made into nutritious meals! Just add water and you have a-"

"Thank you, Cal!" cut off the Amazon, "I'm sure they get it." She turned torward Rick again and held out a hand. "I'm Anya. We have guns and skills to offer, too."

"Gawwwwd-damnit." drawled Daryl as he finally heard enough. "How many fuckin' animals do you think I can shoot, anyway? You keep adding people to the meal ticket and I'm gonna run through every fuckin' squirrel in Georgia." He stepped forward, crossbow still casually resting on his shoulder. Rick sighed and jerked his head at the angry redneck, then looked back at Anya. "Daryl," he said tiredly, "the hunter-gatherer of our group."

It was in times like these when Anya had learned to use her considerable height and spectacular figure to her advantage. She stepped closer to Daryl, looking down pointedly. At 6"2, she was a good 4 inches taller. Not that it mattered, his ice-blue eyes were currently fixed at her bustline. "I'm up here, Cletus."

"Cuse ME?" he snarled.

"I like your crossbow," Anya said. "That's a Horton Scout 125, right?"

His goateed chin dropped. "Wha-?"

"Yeah," Anya said as she walked forward casually, "lighter draw weight, right? You got the Red Dot Package?" She leaned down slightly until their eyes met. "HD?" she drawled.

Daryl was in love. Which immediately made him bristle. "Don't matter what the hell I'm firin-you're still more mouths to feed!"

Anya looked him over calmly, then her gaze returned to Rick. "We've got 2 kids we found by an elementary school," she said with as much warmth as she'd used all day. "There's only 6 of us, and we'll be a help. You won't regret it."

Rick carefully avoided looking at the enraged Daryl as he smiled again and nodded. "There's room and you're welcome."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"You can FOLD a shirt?"

Much to Daryl's irritation, Anya's group settled in without a ripple of discomfort. The only truly mournful member of the original crew was Glenn, who finally got his wish for a roomate, though the nervous, adam's apple bobbing Calvin was not who he'd been hoping for. Warm, quiet Samantha took 9 year olds Mandy and Brianna into her cabin. Much to everyone's relief, Anya bunked with Ellen-the most fragile member of the group and still prone to screaming nightmares.

Daryl learned this the first night when a shrill scream sent him leaping up from the fire where he was keeping watch. Leaping over the log he'd been sitting on and racing torwards the screaming, his pale blue eyes kept scanning for Geeks. The camp was still-no movement. "They got inside already?" his brow furrowed and Daryl slammed through the cabin door with an arrow pulled back and ready on the crossbow. The banging of the door against the wall sent up another scream from Ellen, still sobbing against Anya. Crossbow hitched to shoulder and one narrowed blue eye looking through the scope, the only thing Daryl saw was a lean and muscled arm holding a Beretta right to his forehead. Recognition hit both of them at the same time and they both snapped at once.

"-Jeeeezus, woman! Take that fucking gun out of my face!"

"-Yeah, Cletus? And you're smashing through my door with a crossbow ready to fire because-"

"-Heard screaming, ya damn fool! Can't you-"

"-It's just Ellen, I HAD her calming down 'till you show up like some extra from 'Deliverance' with your-"

"Shut. UP!" Bellowed an exhausted Rick, sweat rings forming under his white t-shirt from his sprint across the campground. He leaned heavily against the door and caught his breath. "Anya, Daryl's on watch tonight. It's his responsibility to keep the camp safe. Hearing screaming is gonna set him off, I'm sure you can see that."

"Yeah!" snarled Daryl, "and if you can't quiet down that-"

"And DARYL," Rick interrupted, "we all know now that Ellen's going to need some extra time to settle in and feel safe. So yelling at her won't help."

Anya's muscled arm relaxed, and she carefully clicked the safety back on the Beretta, placing it on her bedside table. "Thank you, Rick. I'll just get Ellen back to sleep now." She moved torward her bunkmate, still sobbing softly and clutching her blanket. Arching his neck back to loosen it, Daryl slung his crossbow back over his shoulder. Rick was backing out the door, and Anya was rocking Ellen, gently murmering nonsense words of comfort. The Amazon was wearing a tiny pair of night shorts and a tank top. Daryl had a brief vision of those long, long legs wrapped around his waist and shook his head violently, turning to stalk out of the cabin.

He turned and paused long enough to snap "and don't call me Cletus!"

########################################

Back from his hunt the next afternoon, Daryl dropped 3 squirrels and a small fawn by his cabin door. He hated killing a deer so small, but the bony flesh of the two new children had not yet filled out. Extra meat was extra meat, he figured.

"What the hell?" He squinted against the sun to the line of clothing drying on his tiny front porch. "What the hell is going on here?" Anya emerged from his cabin door. "Hi Daryl," she greeted him.

Every piece of his clothing, his towels and sleeping bag were hung over newly strung clotheslines and drying or already folded into neat piles. Even his second pair of boots had been carefully cleaned and re-waterproofed. Anya examined her fingernails. "I thought since I was going to the lake to do laundry anyway, I might just do you a favor." Daryl couldn't stop looking at the precisely folded stacks of shirts and jeans. She smirked behind her hand, "I'll bet the man doesn't know you can even fold a shirt." When he didn't say anything, Anya bristled.

"How about a thank you, buddy!"

His cold blue eyes finally met hers. "Why'd you do mah washing?"

She sighed. "Look at it this way, just because you are the King Hunter-Gatherer around here doesn't mean you have to smell like a Neanderthal." Daryl stepped back and put his crossbow down as the Amazon hung the rest of his fancy shirts-the ones with sleeves-on the line. Anya must have washed her hair at the lake, the long brown length still wet and draped over her left shoulder. The moisture had already soaked through her tank top, the thin fabric clung to her breast the cold made her nipple erect, pushing against the shirt.

Swallowing hard and forcing his eyes back up to her face, Daryl muttered "thanks. Uh, thank you. You need anything?"

A predatory smile lit Anya's features, which she carefully erased before turning back around to face him. Leaning in with her excellent height advantage, she said "why, I'm so glad you asked."

Daryl cleared his throat. "So, what'll it be? Set some traps? Teach them kids to fish?"

He stood his ground as she whispered into his ear. "Do you know what day this is?"

"Tuesday?"

Anya's lips just barely tickled the curve of Daryl's ear as she continued. "No. It's Spa Day. And you need to meet me at the Boat House. Right now."

"Spa Day?" spluttered Daryl. "What the fuck is Spa Day?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Hey! Them are MY razors!"

Daryl's head was spinning. First, everything he owned was clean and perfectly folded. Secondly, the hottest woman he'd ever seen was demanding something from him that made no gawddamn sense.

"What the fuck is a Spa Day?" he shouted, then looked around quickly to see if anyone around camp had heard him. When he turned back, all he saw was Anya's shapely backside heading down to the lake with a small bag in her hand.

"Seriously man, I don't get it! A Spa? We ain't got no Spa here!" The Amazon didn't turn, but raised her arm to motion him to follow. Daryl sighed, grabbed his crossbow, and ran.

He caught up to Anya just as they reached the boat house. The boat house was a unusual concept to the new group. Their little group came Arizona to attend the "Survive and Thrive" convention in Atlanta. Living in a desert state meant none of them had ever seen one before. It resembled a well-built garage from the front, neatly painted doors and a stone base that opened to an interior dock that faced the lake. There were several small rowboats there, once mean for campers to drift through the lake-but now part of Daryl and Rick's emergency exit strategy. He watched as she unlocked one of the doors and slipped inside. He didn't move until Anya poked her head back out. "Relax Daryl, it's cool."

He sighed and walked through the door, locking it behind him and walking down to the longest dock. There were a couple of reclining chairs set at the edge in the sun. Anya took a clean towel and covered one of the lounges. Turning to Daryl, she grinned. "It's time for Spa Day to start."

He rolled his ice blue eyes again and growled "woman, you keep saying those words and everytime you do I still DO. NOT. KNOW. WHAT. THE. FUCK. YOU. ARE. TALKING. ABOUT!" Daryl enunciated each word at a time, irritable that this tall and magnificent creature could unsettle him so.

Anya sighed, and settled him down on one of the lounges, taking the other for herself. "You see, Sweets, it's hard for a girl to keep up on all the little things that help make us feel feminine when we're constantly being chased by a bunch of dead fuckers who want to disembowel us and have our organs for brunch. Sooo, I need your help." Daryl nodded cautiously. "Now," continued Anya, "at a Spa Day the lady just lays back and is taken care of."

"You want me to screw you?" Daryl thought he was catching on.

"No. Open that towel."

Daryl grabbed the terrycloth and frowned. "Hey! Them are MY razors! I want 'em back!"

Eyeing his unshaven scruff, she drawled "really? For what?"

Next to the razors was a bar of soap. Settling back in her lounge, Anya crisply ordered, "now get that bucket full of water and set it next to me. You'll be starting with my legs." Daryl numbly did as she asked and placed the bucket next to her chair. Leaning back against her chair and stretching happily in the sun, Anya purred, "soap my legs and shave them smooth."

A grin spread across Daryl's face as the long-awaited light bulb went off in his head. He ran his soapy hands up her left leg slowly, stopping just below her denim cutoffs. He started shaving, but the long, soft expanse was nothing like his scrubby face and his hand started shaking.

"You won't hurt me." Anya smiled lazily. "I've seen you skin squirrels closer than this with your buck knife."

Dipping the razor in the water to clear it, Daryl reapplied himself to his task, drawing the blades gently up one side of her slim calf and down the other. He would occasionally rinse her off with clean water to wash away the shaved hair. More rinsing than was necessary, to be honest. It gave Daryl a reason to soap up his calloused hands again and slide them against her legs. The razor was just at thigh line when she suddently stood up.

"It's too damn hot out here," Anya said, casually pulling off her clothes in two swift moves and laying back down. "Continue."

Daryl had been fighting a monster erection from the moment Anya called him "King Hunter-Gatherer" back at the cabin. Even though he stayed focused on the task, her newly naked skin made him push himself against the edge of the chaise lounge for some relief. He lifted her legs one at a time to shave the back of her thighs, giving him a longer look at her delicious bottom.

"Finished." Daryl croaked as he washed the razor clean.

"Oh, I don't think so." Anya stretched, arching her long back as she put her arms over her head. To be honest, this was the part that made her a little uneasy-given all the personal experience she'd had with hot wax and an uncertain esthetician in the past. A slight smirk lifted the mole on the right side of Daryl's mouth as he shaved and rinsed her, watching the soap trail down the slopes of her breasts and puckering her delightfully pink nipples. As he drank her in, he suddenly pictured an all-you-can-eat buffet he once went to on at a casino over the border in Lousiana.

"How do you like Spa Day so far?" purred Anya, breaking him from the memory. She pulled the recliner up into a sitting position and sighed as she looked down herself. "Now, what are we going to do about that?"

Daryl's blue eyes lightened to almost white as they narrowed in on her casually splayed legs.

"It's a bit of a jungle down there, and I feel, Daryl, that you are just the bushwacker to tame it." Anya grinned evilly. "So get to it, honey."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

All the way.

"Wha...wha...how...what the hell do you want me to do?" Daryl finally spit out as he greedily took in her casually displayed center. He'd never seen a woman like this before. Close up, out in the sun. Completely unashamed.

"Your choice." Anya said with a wink. She dropped one long leg over each arm of the recliner and grabbed the soap, lathering herself up. Daryl's cock was so hard it felt like it was about to split open, his hips still pressing helplessly against the side of the lounge. Anya felt every push as it gently rocked the recliner but said nothing. He selected a new razor and started from the top of her taut pelvis, gently removing the brown curls. Anya's eyes widened. With every stroke, more and more of her was exposed. Daryl was utterly entranced. The more of her pinkness exposed made him less able to stop. He placed two long fingers on either side of her lips, to stretch them and shave her closer. Every time he rinsed the blade, Anya looked down, her breath coming faster as she examined his handywork.

Rinsing her and re-soaping her pussy, Daryl ran one knuckle up the center of her as she gasped and jerked away from his hand. "Hush now," he admonished, spreading her again his fingers. Carefully slipping the soapsuds over the glistening pink folds, he grinned a little as she moved helplessly against his hand. "Just tidyin' up the landing strip," he soothed as he finished shaving off the last of her curls. Her clit swelled helplessly against his finger as he held it down to shave above it. Anya's hands clenched on the armrests as he leaned forward to admire his handiwork, fingers spreading her wider. The lean muscles in her thighs trembled as she tried to close her legs. Daryl held his hand in place just long enough for her to have to look up at him. Smiling innocently, he removed his fingers from her swelling pussy and leaned back.

Trying to regain her composure, the Amazon took a breath and announced, "time for a rinse." She gratefully plunged into the cold water. Daryl stood and followed, not bothering to remove his clothes. The press of the chill water against his cock made him realize he'd been hard for 2 hours. Anya climbed up the ladder and back onto the dock. "Give me your clothes," she said softly. Half in and out of the water, Daryl hooked one leg against the ladder and ripped everything off, throwing the sodden bundle on the dock. He put a foot on the next rung to continue climbing but halted as Anya's legs spread to either side of the edge in front of him. Daryl groaned as the tip of his cock bobbed above the water.

Tilting her head to one side, Anya suggested, "why don't you check out your handiwork?"

Daryl raised a hand. "Not with that," she shook her head disapprovingly, grin still stretching her full lips. He quickly pressed his face into her heated center, but Anya grabbed his hair and pushed. "Not with that scraggly beard, either. Use your tongue."

Complely bare against his tongue, Daryl traced each fold with just the tip of his tongue, easily outling everything that was usually tucked away and secretive in a girl. He flattened his tongue against her clit and then probed into her as Anya's back arched again. Sucking one of her lips into his mouth made a slurping sound.

"Oh, my GOD!" gasped Anya, her hips starting to move helplessly. "Okay, okay, okay that's good just-"

Daryl climbed two more rungs of the ladder and pushed her onto her back. Pushing her legs together and straight up in the air, he slid into her slowly, stopping everytime she tensed and tightened him into a halt. "Relax, woman," he groaned as her back arched, pushing his last few inches inside. Stroking in and out of her smoothness, Daryl pulled her legs over his elbows so he could watch himself appear and disappear inside her. Two hours with a raging erection was making it difficult for him to not come right away. Tightening his grip on her thighs, Daryl grinned when she pushed harder against him and moaned out "now! God, Daryl!" Letting loose, he closed his hooded eyes against the sight of her and pounded in and out as hard as he could, not worrying about hurting her, knowing she could take everything he gave her.

Anya's back arched until only her head and hips remained on the dock. "God, baby! Come with me!" Daryl gave into his own release, feeling her slick walls tense against him so tightly that he had to use extra force to shove back in to flood her. They stayed in that position, his head against her breasts until his legs started to wobble on the ladder. Anya sat up with him still inside her. "Now that's what I call a full service spa!" Daryl shook with silent laughter as he wrapped his muscled arms around her waist.

"Take a breath." he said, lifting her up as they both slid beneath the water,


End file.
